


The Shape of Things Forgotten

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Original Work
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Memory Alteration, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Lukas makes an unusual trade, and Étienne finds himself growing fond.





	The Shape of Things Forgotten

Lukas shifts from foot to foot as he checks to make sure he’s got the number right, then raps a knuckle on the hotel room door. The man who greets him is slight, lithe, with dark tattoos winding over pale forearms that peek out from under rolled-up shirtsleeves. Lukas gives him a hesitant smile and sticks out his hand.

“Hi - we spoke on the vidchat earlier I think? I’m Lukas - Lukas Oliver.”

“Yes, of course.” The man’s handshake is firmer than Lukas had expected, and he looks down at wiry hands. Right. The man is a surgeon, of sorts. It makes a certain amount of sense.

“Étienne Amisu, with the Agency.” He’s dressed simply, in a black shirt and a tie, but that doesn’t make Lukas feel any less uncomfortable.

“Yes. Nice, uh - nice to meet you.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Lukas shoves his hands in his pockets, ignoring Étienne’s slightly lifted eyebrows.

“Doin’ this in a hotel - it’s weird. Shouldn’t you guys have, like a permanent office or something?”

Étienne darts an irritated glance at him, then looks up and down the hall before motioning Lukas inside. He makes sure the door is securely closed behind both of them before answering.

“Given that what we do isn’t precisely _orthodox_ , we can’t really commit to a permanent location.”

“Mmm.” Lukas’ answer is more of a grunt. He’s still standing, awkwardly, and Étienne gestures languidly toward one of the chairs in the room before sitting in the other one.

“Have you decided which one it will be?” He crosses one leg over the other gracefully, unconsciously adjusting dark gray pants before he does so. He looks at Lukas over laced-together fingers.

Lukas hasn’t, and just shakes his head mutely.

“Hmm.” Now it’s Étienne’s turn to answer him with a thoughtful noise. “Why not? Looking to grab something on the spur of the moment? Or just in denial?” He laughs, not altogether nicely.

“So, which is it?” It’s a command, not a question, and Étienne draws the fabric napkin he's idly fiddling with through his fingers. It’s downright distracting. Up close, Lukas can see that Étienne’s eyes are a light shade of hazel, not the brown he’d expected would go with the shoulder-length fall of dark hair. Why, why is he noticing this now? It’s as if even his mind is trying to stall, trying to avoid the unnatural thing that’s about to happen.

Lukas’ eyes dart back and forth, thinking, and Étienne just shakes his head.

“You don’t want to just choose at random. That will end up being something too top-of-mind, something you treasure, and it will leave a strangely shaped hole within you. Before you ask, yes, I have a very good reason to know this.” The muscles around his eyes tense just slightly - not with sadness, that would require recall, specifics - but with regret. Emptiness.

“I can help, if you’ll let me.”

The nervous gaze Lukas darts over is met with a calm, almost inviting look. He's reluctant to let this stranger rummage through his mind, but… He shrugs, and nods.

“As we discussed, it will need to be something valuable. We can’t do anything with what you ate for breakfast four years ago.” A gentle laugh, and then he rises gracefully from his chair, casting the napkin aside. “Just stay there, you’re fine.”

Lukas watches him approach, and Étienne kneels down in front of him. He looks at Lukas for approval before slim fingers rest lightly against his temples. Lukas’ eyes widen, and he nods. Étienne’s touch is cold, but not unpleasantly so.

He murmurs quietly, “You should feel this when we begin.” His eyes are focused and attentive, and Lukas can’t help noticing the dark-blue rims around his irises.

Then his skin is tingling and his own eyes flutter closed.

Memories float to the surface of his mind like bubbles, trailing associated emotions behind them. Étienne is good at this - true to his word, he’s not dredging up anything but the memories with a certain amount of weight.

A woman’s face starts to take shape but winks out like an extinguished candle; only the smallest feeling of regret wisps like trailed smoke.

Étienne leans closer than he already had been, almost confidentially. “We don’t do relationships. Partly because there are too many regrets. But also because there are too many threads to find your way back and reconstruct it, which defeats the purpose. We also don’t do refunds, as you may have gathered.” His voice is quiet and amused, but a hint of lethal calm slides under his words as well.

He leans slightly back again and continues, businesslike. “In any event, those memories don’t belong only to you, do they? I’m not interested in dividing community property.” He smiles at his little joke and concentrates again. Back to the bubbles.

Guilt, then, from harming a little classmate on the playground. Lukas had grown faster than he realized, and he’d tackled the wind right out of his friend. It wasn’t until Pavel wouldn’t stop crying that anyone realized he’d had cracked ribs. It still bothered Lukas, all these years later. He just saw the tear-tracked face of his playmate, and shook his head, imperceptibly. The caution that had grown from that accident was important, and he didn’t want to let go of it.

“Smart - removing that one will change you. You’ve grown a callous around it.”

Lukas sees, smells, tastes the pie that his grandfather had made in an attempt to comfort him. That seems - complicated. Will the Agency take all the memories of pie, or just one? One hug, or the rippling echo effect of all of them that had made Lukas feel loved? He swallows and feels a shift inside his mind - a silent acknowledgment from Étienne that yes, he ought to look elsewhere.

Lukas grunts in affirmation and attempts to focus. Time to get this over with.

That one. Yes. It will be hard to let go of, but he has others. Lukas feels the burn of rejection rise as he remembers the first time someone had told him he lacked the musical talent to pursue it any further. When it goes, it will take a certain amount of poisonous resentment, disappointment, and shame that Lukas figures he can probably do without.

He isn’t wild about sharing it with this attractive stranger, but that’s part of the price, he supposes. “Get on with it.”

“I can also remove your memory of - this. Of me.” Étienne ’s voice softens just a bit, and Lukas’ eyes flick open.

“No.” The word rasps too low, too quiet, so Lukas says it again. “No, thanks.”

Lukas curses himself just a little for how happy he is to see those sculpted lips curve just slightly at the corners in response. Hopefully, this won’t take long.

* * *

What Lukas doesn't know is that Étienne is a liar. A careful, deliberate liar who is very good at covering his tracks. This is the third time Lukas has sought the Agency, the third time Étienne has answered his knock, the third time he's promised not to erase himself from Lukas’ memory, the third time he's lied.

Things are difficult in the outer reaches of the System, and Étienne knows that Lukas’ family needs the money. He also knows, though, that this needs to be the limit; three deletions in as many months is risky. As he draws the memory out - this one is particularly full of emotion - Étienne looks at the calm, trusting expression that crosses Lukas’ pale features. He admires the squared-off jaw, the reddish strands just above his fingers, and decides that maybe this time will be different.

He decides not to be a liar this time.

Full lips part and exhale in relief as Étienne retreats. He stands in one fluid motion to properly store and upload his retrieval for the Agency. He clicks the pale green cube closed, turns, and watches Lukas fall for him again. He’d started to wonder if it would happen every time, and so far, it’s been three in a row.

This is the best yet, though. The little bit of flush that colors the skin behind the freckles is delightful, and the way he stops and turns on his way to the door, dragging one booted toe just a little… It's altogether too endearing, for someone Étienne has met only a handful of times. A tiny smile starts to sneak its way across his own face as he follows.

Lukas scrubs a hand self-consciously across the auburn stubble peppering his jaw and looks at the floor for a quick moment, then flips a clear, seafoam-green gaze up.

“So, hey, I still have your card.”

Étienne lets his smile deepen in response. “You do.”

“Would it be okay if - can I call you? Not about work.”

The smile stays, authentically for once, and Étienne exhales a small laugh that isn't mocking, but fond. He thinks that it would be so nice to be known by this man - this lovely person whose memories sing with straightforward, honest emotion.

The idea of baring his _own_ emotion is less appealing, and the thought brings up some of Étienne’s own memories; long-buried. Too many memories that he’d happily part with if the Agency wanted them; if doing so would bring him peace. Neither is true, so he shoves them back down again.

“Yes. Please do.” He closes the space between them in smooth, quiet steps, and brushes their fingers together in something that isn't a handshake.

Lukas’ fingers are warm, and they linger before pulling away. “Thanks.”

Étienne inclines his head in response and stands there until the door clicks closed again.

Maybe being a liar is overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading this! You can find me on Twitter @Stopmopingstart and on Dreamwidth under the same username as here. Comments and kudos are always appreciated so much!


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